


the good times are killing me

by BoyishStutter



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: College era, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyishStutter/pseuds/BoyishStutter
Summary: Oliver assumes his best friends are hot as hell in bed. They prove him right.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Oliver, Harvey, and Bruce have been best friends since prep school. It was bound to happen.

Oliver should’ve known better. He really, really should’ve known better than to leave Harvey and Bruce alone together for even five minutes and expect them to be in any sort of decent, respectable position when he got back. It’d only been _three years_ of this shit, after all. He was never doing a beer run in their house again. Though, to be fair, it probably would have ended up like this even if he hadn’t stepped out of the room.

He loved them, of course he did. They were his best friends. There was still only so many times he could watch one straddle the other. Okay, that was a lie. He could watch it many, many times. Infinite numbers of times, actually. Sue him. They were fuckin’ _hot_.

Still, as much as he may have _liked_ to watch Bruce grind on Harvey, it did make him feel voyeuristic in a distinctly un-fun way, which really took the enjoyment out of it.

If he had any indication from the other two that they didn’t _mind_ or, even more preferably, actually _wanted_ him to watch them go to town on each other, that’d be a whole different story.

Oliver would absolutely be down for a session of mutually enjoyable voyeurism. Sometimes, he even entertained the possibility of asking them about it. He wondered if they displayed such exhibitionist tendencies with their other friends, or if it was just him. Did they hope he was looking? Or did they not even think about it? Was it really just a simple byproduct of how close they all were?

It wasn’t like he was hoping they’d have _feelings_ for him - which was good, since it was glaringly obvious to everyone, Oliver included, that they only had eyes for each other. And it wasn’t like he was pining, either. He had no desire to get between the two of them. Other than in a purely physical way, of course.

He was confident that thirsting after your two best friends in a completely platonic way was totally normal. Not that he ever talked to them about it.

Instead, he was stuck making half-hearted excuses to leave and averting his eyes before any clothes were removed.

Like now, for instance. He hastily put his beer down on the end table, turning to face the door, “I’m just gonna...go.”

Oliver didn’t even bother making an excuse this time, pointedly ignoring the muffled moans. He didn’t really expect a response, or for either of them to even hear him, which was fine. He was used to it. Besides, it’s not like they _never_ got any time just the three of them. He didn’t resent them for their complete inability to keep their hands to themselves. If anything, he more resented his own dick for betraying him by being all too eager every time it happened.

“Oliver.”

He was halfway to the door when he heard his name. He stifled a groan, part embarassment, part irritation, and as much as he was loath to admit it, part arousal.

His pulse was quickening in anticipation, his traitorous dick already getting hard, which was absolutely ridiculous. It wasn’t like he’d actually been _invited_ to join in anything. Hell, he had probably even imagined his name being called - wishful thinking overtaking all rational thought. He couldn’t even be sure who was the one called his name, which just confirmed the notion that he was making it all up.

“ _Oliver_.”

Nope, that was definitely Bruce. Only that asshole could sound so bossy and demanding while also breathless.

He turned back, slowly, “Yeah, man?”

Fuck. It was a mistake. He never should have turned around. Bruce was _looking_ at him, gaze sharp and focused, making him feel caught out and exposed. Harvey, the jackass, hadn’t even paused, kissing under Bruce’s jaw and down his neck, kneading the man’s ass.

“Stay.”

They were trying to kill him. There was no other explanation. They had finally snapped, and were going to punish him for his dirty, no good thoughts. He knew they were possessive and intense, but c’mon, he hadn’t even _done_ anything.

“Uh.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, rocking his hips forward under Harvey’s insistent hands, “Eloquent as always, Ollie.”

“Shut up,” He answered, reflexively. He was going to die and the man was giving him cheek? The nerve. The audacity. The - his train of thought came to a halt. Maybe he wasn’t going to die. Maybe...

“Got there, did ya?”

It was typically mocking, and so goddamn Gotham; Bruce’s accent actually coming through for once. God, Oliver wondered if Harvey sounded the same when like this.

“Shut up.”

Bruce smirked, and it was like every bit of his nerve-endings came alight. This was honestly happening.

“Really, though?”

He had to be sure. He had to _hear_ it. Hear Bruce, or Harvey, or both, _som_ _eone_ , someone needed to actually say the words.

It’s Harvey who spoke up, impatient, snapping, “Yes, Oliver.”

Holy shit.

“Now, do you want to watch me fuck our best friend, or not?”

“ _Fuck_.”

“That’s not an answer,” Bruce teased, receiving a quick swat to his rear from Harvey in response.

“Yes! God, yes, you asshole.”

“Right,” Harvey said, “Now that that’s all settled. Get me the lube and park your ass in the armchair.”

Oliver hurried to comply, following the directions to the nightstand, fishing out the lube and trying not to look too close at the other contents of the drawer, not ready to go down _that_ particular rabbit hole.

By the time he settled into the armchair his cock was achingly hard, and the other men had already divested themselves of their clothes. It was a shame, he had hoped to witness the undressing portion of the evening. Another time. Maybe. If he ever got another opportunity like this. Not that he was complaining if it was a one time thing, of course. He’d have to be a complete idiot to look this gift horse in the mouth.

He watched as Harvey’s fingers slowly pumped in and out of Bruce, itching to get his hand on his cock.

“Can I?”

Oliver gestured to his own crotch, feeling embarrassed. He wasn’t sure why...it wasn’t like they could expect him _not_ to be aroused by the show. But, still. It was awkward addressing it so blatantly. He felt the blush spreading across his cheeks.

Harvey spared him a quick glance, continuing to ignore Bruce’s demands to go faster and rougher, “Go ahead, Ol. Touch yourself.”

He moaned as he pulled out his cock, embarrassment leaving him with the grant of permission.

It was amazing, being able to watch Harvey and Bruce in this position, like the hottest wet dream he’d ever had brought to life. Oliver was pretty sure porn was ruined for him.

He was also pretty sure he was on the verge of passing out when Harvey finally pressed his cock into Bruce. The noise _alone_ that Bruce made had him gripping the base of his cock, willing himself not to come on the spot.

He took a deep breath, matching his strokes to Harvey’s thrusts, watching as Bruce writhed against the man’s firm hold.

“Harder,” Bruce ordered, “More.”

He pulled at Harvey’s hair, biting along his jaw.

Oliver muffled another groan. It was so fucking hot, Bruce was just as demanding and needy as he was normally. Harvey smirked and leaned in to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear.

He wasn’t able to make out all of the words, and honestly? It was for the best. The bits he did catch were enough to send his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“...baby...doing so...fucking beautiful...sees it, too...best goddamn…”

He was close to coming, but he didn’t want to lose it first. He was willing to admit that this was one of the hottest things he’d ever seen (and likely ever would, he assumed) but he absolutely was not, without a doubt, going to come first. He refused.

Luckily, from the way Harvey’s thrusts sped up, his grip going lax on Bruce’s waist, moving to fist his lover’s cock, Oliver didn’t need to worry. They were close, too.

It was Bruce who tipped over the edge first, with a fucking _shout_ , fingers digging in hard against Harvey’s shoulders.

He’d seen the marks Bruce left on the other man countless times, and _fuck_ were the images they brought forward in his mind going to be a thousand times more realistic now.

He’d never be able to see either of them shirtless again without popping a boner. Not that he was doing well on that front before, but still.

Oliver wanted to wait for Harvey, too, but it was too much stimulation. It was everything he’d ever wanted to see and more, Bruce’s orgasm driving him to his own release. He shoved his fist against his mouth to muffle his deep groan, come shooting across his chest, ruining his shirt. He definitely should have taken that off. Shit.

He let his head hit the back of the arm chair, and watched Harvey’s body shudder against Bruce’s. _Hot_.

Oh, yeah. Definitely lived up to the fantasies.

They all sat in silence for a moment as they caught their breath (and in Oliver’s case, rebooted his brain).

“Holy _shit_ , dudes.”

Harvey snorted, not lifting his head from Bruce’s collarbone.

“No, seriously, you should make films. You’d be rich.”

“I’m already rich,” Bruce said.

“Yeah, well. Rich _er_. More rich.”

“I think we broke him.”

“Yeah, you goddamn did,” Oliver answered, unashamed.

They all sat in silence for another few minutes.

“So, real talk...can I borrow a t-shirt?”

Bruce threw a pillow at him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another fic inspired by a conversation with a friend.


End file.
